


Night Moves

by Rocky_T



Series: Tightrope [11]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e07 Eye of the Needle, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: Immediately follows episode 7, "Eye of the Needle", approximately 3 months into the journey. Janeway's disappointment over the micro-wormhole to the past brings her and Chakotay a bit closer.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris, Kathryn Janeway/Justin Tighe, Kathryn Janeway/Owen Paris
Series: Tightrope [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797067
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Seema for her usual excellent beta.

“Report,” Janeway said as she entered the bridge, raising her voice to be heard over the red alert klaxon. The ship shuddered as the shields absorbed another volley of enemy fire. 

“We’re under attack by an unidentified vessel,” Chakotay responded as he vacated the center seat. “They just showed up and began firing at us.” 

“You don’t have any idea of who they are?” Janeway asked, self-consciously pulling her robe closer around her as she sat down. It was the middle of Gamma shift, 0330 ship’s time. She’d been roused from a very deep sleep by the urgent summons to the bridge and hadn’t wasted any time getting dressed.

“The pattern doesn’t match what we’ve seen of the Kazon,” Chakotay said, just as Tom Paris exited the turbolift and hurried to his station, displacing Baytart at the helm. As evidenced by his T shirt and sweatpants, he had also been off duty when the red alert had sounded and all hands had been called to battle stations. 

“Helm, evasive maneuvers,” Janeway said. “Ensign Kim, hail them.” 

“We tried, Captain, but they refuse to respond,” Kim said, who had been on Gamma shift from the outset.

“They _did not_ respond, Ensign,” Tuvok pointed out. “But we do not know if it is because they cannot or will not.”

“Either way, the result is the same,” Chakotay said, a hint of impatience in his voice. “We don’t know who they are or why they’ve launched an unprovoked attack.”

“Indeed,” said Tuvok. “Shields down to 78%.”

Janeway studied the display on her console, then twisted around to face the Tactical station. “Target their weapons, full phaser spread, pattern delta pi 132.”

“Firing phasers,” Tuvok said. He paused. “That part of their vessel appears to be more heavily shielded; our phasers caused little if any damage.” As if in agreement, _Voyager_ rocked once more.

“Prepare to fire a photon torpedo,” Janeway said crisply. “Target their warp nacelle.”

“Arming torpedo,” Tuvok said, his hands flying across his controls.

Janeway half-rose from her seat. “Fire.”

“Direct hit,” Tuvok reported a moment later. “They appear to have lost the ability to maintain a stable warp field.”

“Captain, I’m reading an energy buildup in the alien vessel,” Kim said. “Their warp core may be going critical!”

“Helm, hard to port, 155 mark 38. Get us out here!” Janeway said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom said, and the ship sprang away, just as the flash of an exploding warp core was visible behind them. _Voyager_ rocked as the aftereffects of the explosion reached them, but Janeway was able to maintain her balance. She quickly scanned the console readout at her seat; there was minimal damage to the ship’s critical systems. She would get a full report from Lieutenant Torres later.

“That was close,” Janeway said under her breath, then raised her voice. “Good work, all of you.”

At the Ops station, Kim breathed a sigh of relief. “Why do these things always seem to happen in the middle of the night?”

“Aliens can hardly be expected to abide by _Voyager_ local time,” Chakotay said dryly.

“The odds do not favor an attack during one particular shift as opposed to the others,” Tuvok added. “It is merely that the ones in the middle of our ‘night’ are the most memorable.”

“Stand down from red alert,” Janeway ordered. Sudden silence fell as the klaxon was turned off. “Anything on long range sensors?”

“I am not detecting any more ships,” Tuvok said. “Whoever our attacker was, he appears to have been alone.”

“Go to yellow alert,” Janeway said. “Remain vigilant, just in case some of his friends decide to show up.” She added, “All personnel can return to their regular schedules.”

“I assume that includes you as well, Captain?” Chakotay said as he stood as well. 

“Possibly. I can’t decide whether to try and get some more sleep, or just go ahead and start my day,” Janeway said. She glanced down, suddenly cognizant of the fact that she was wearing her favorite pink silk nightgown and matching robe, her long hair down from its bun and tumbling over her shoulders. She colored slightly, as she realized Chakotay was also scrutinizing her appearance. “Either way, I’ll return to my cabin and change into something more appropriate.”

Chakotay grinned. “At least the boots are regulation,” he said, gesturing at her footwear. “I’d have thought you had a pair of pink satin mules to match.”

“I can run faster in my Starfleet issue boots than in my slippers,” Janeway said evenly, though she felt her face grow warmer at Chakotay’s observation. “Commander, you have the con.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tom rise from his seat and beckon to Baytart, no doubt intending to return to his own quarters, but he pointedly did not approach the turbolift when it arrived. She bit back a sigh; the pattern of the last several weeks was clearly continuing. It bothered her that he was so obviously avoiding her, but there was nothing she could do about that except hope things might improve in time.

As the doors closed, she leaned against the wall of the ‘lift, shaking her head at the irony that it had only been a little more than a week since she had started relaxing enough to get undressed at night without worrying about being suddenly called back to the bridge. She wondered briefly if she should consider changing what she slept in, but decided against it. She liked the more feminine garb _precisely_ because of the marked contrast to the uniform. And anyway, this was what she’d always worn to sleep in, whether at home or on board a ship. 

Back inside her cabin, she undressed, placing her nightgown in the fresher. “Computer, time.”

“The time is now 0600 hours.”

Two hours until Alpha shift. Definitely not worth trying to go back to bed. She pulled out a clean uniform and began to get dressed. 

As she brushed her hair and arranged it in its usual bun, a soothing activity precisely because of its familiarity, her gaze fell on a holo of Owen in his admiral’s uniform. His blue eyes were warm, his lips turned up slightly at the edges. It had been taken a year after they’d gotten married, and was one of her favorites. He had been about to leave for McKinley Station to assume command of the last vessel he would ever have, though they hadn’t known this at the time.

Because she had spent so much of her married life separated from Owen due to their respective careers, she was used to waking up alone. In fact, sometimes now when she woke in the morning, it took a moment or two for her to remember that she was in the Delta Quadrant, 70,000 light years away from her husband. As often happened in quiet moments, her thoughts strayed to him now and she wondered for the thousandth time how he was doing. She was familiar with Starfleet protocols and knew that most likely _Voyager_ had been declared missing at the one-month mark. She could imagine what had been going through Owen’s mind since the ship had vanished without a trace – the agony of not knowing what had happened, the doubt and fear that probably only grew stronger as more time went by. It had been three months already, and she wondered if he had given up hope yet. Likely that would come when they were officially declared dead after 6 months. 

In addition to her own fears about the daunting journey ahead of them, her heart ached with worry about Owen and the hell he must be going through now, with both his wife and his son aboard _Voyager_. She wished there was some way to at least let him – and Starfleet Command – know that they were still alive. Unfortunately, the micro-wormhole they had discovered recently, through which they had been able to converse with a Romulan located in the Alpha Quadrant, hadn’t been sufficient for that task, as it led to an endpoint twenty years in the past. 

Now she second-guessed herself over what good it would do if a message _had_ gotten through. Could she really expect him to wait for her? A sudden chill went through her as she realized that if it took the full 70 years to return home, Owen would be 133 years old when they got back. Even with the miracles of modern medicine, the Human life span seemed to top out around 120. She slammed her brush down on the dresser with more force than necessary, not ready to accept that she might never see him again.

Throughout her time at the Academy and her early career, she had always looked up to and admired Admiral Owen Paris. In addition to being in awe of his vast scientific knowledge, she’d been attracted by his aura of power and command. Serving under him on the _Icarus_ had been a dream come true, and her admiration had developed into a full blown crush. She’d been thrilled when he offered her a chance to study the Urtean solar winds more closely and had joyfully embarked on that fateful shuttle ride with him that had ended with their capture by the Cardassians. Afterward, her own recovery from that vile experience had very nearly taken a backseat to her worries and concerns for him.

But they’d both pulled through, and she had fallen in love with Justin Tighe, the dashing officer who had carried out their rescue. The Admiral had seemed happy for her and Justin, and had been visibly touched when she’d asked him to conduct the simple wedding ceremony they’d planned. And then, when her father and fiancé died in the _Terra Nova_ crash on Tau Ceti Prime, it had been Owen who had helped her out of her despondency, who had showed her that life was still worth living, and who’d encouraged her to make the switch to command track. She could never forget how Owen had been there for her when she’d most needed him, and the sense of completeness and exhilaration she’d felt when they reunited years later at his daughter’s wedding. 

They’d been happy, for the most part, despite their frequent separations, although recently she’d had concerns regarding his health. The increasing tensions surrounding the Cardassian-Federation treaty negotiations had intensified PTSD symptoms from his long-ago capture, forcing him to once more give up command of a science vessel. Before _Voyager_ left, the tremors had been growing progressively worse. She hoped he had finally sought treatment, though she knew it was highly unlikely now that she wasn’t there to urge him to do so. He rarely mentioned the Cardassians, let alone what they had done to him, and she had tried to convince him to seek counseling. But he was too proud to do so, and she knew she had been his sole confidant. 

With one last lingering glance at the holo, she took a deep breath and left her quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

Chakotay looked up as the captain returned to the bridge. “Welcome back,” he said. 

“Thank you.” She considered adding that it felt like she’d never left, but that hit a little too close to home. Instead, she said, “You can knock off a bit early, if you wish, Commander. After all, you had some excitement during the so-called graveyard shift.”

“You experienced the same excitement, and it wasn’t even supposed to be your watch,” he objected. “If it’s all the same to you, Captain, I’ll finish out the shift.”

Janeway shrugged. “As you wish, Commander.”

“But I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee right about now,” he confided in a lower tone. She recalled that he rarely assigned himself to Gamma shift and was probably exhausted. “Though maybe I’ve had enough stimulation for one night, that is, if I plan on getting any sleep afterward.”

“You can never have too much coffee,” Janeway said, a small smile playing about her lips. “That’s my motto, at any rate.”

He laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Janeway rose and went to the Operations station. “Mr. Kim, I want to go through the sensor readings from just before the alien vessel appeared, see if we can learn anything new about our mystery attacker.”

“Yes, sir!” Kim said, “Uh, I mean, Captain.”

Janeway shook her head in fond exasperation. Despite her repeated admonishments to relax, Kim still tended to be very nervous around the senior officers. Still, he _was_ growing more at ease as time went on, and she could tell he had the makings of a fine officer. She only hoped that one day she’d be able to share these observations with Starfleet Command. Biting back a sigh, she leaned over the console as Kim began calling up the readings.

A short time later, a small chime sounded and the wall lights brightened to full illumination, signifying the end of “ship’s night” and the beginning of Alpha shift. Chakotay stretched and yawned as he rose from his seat. “Oh eight hundred, so I’ll leave the bridge to you, Captain,” he said. “I’ll see you later when we go over the personnel reports at 1400.” 

Janeway looked up. “If it’s all the same to you, Commander, why don’t we just do them now and this way you won’t have to go back on duty until the next shift?” 

“That’s a good idea,” he said, and added jokingly, “You’d think whoever made up the schedule would have taken that into consideration.” Together, they went into her Ready Room. 

“Coffee?” Janeway asked him.

“Yes, please.” Chakotay paused next to the side table where she had some holos on display. He picked one up, seemingly at random. “Beautiful dog. What’s his name?”

“Her name is Molly,” Janeway said as she handed him a mug. She realized in surprise that even though this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been inside the Ready Room, he’d never asked her about the holos before. Most of their conversation had centered on ship’s business – the Maquis and their adjustments, the ongoing hostilities with the Kazon – and they hadn’t engaged in a lot of small talk either on or off duty. Not that she had been inclined to volunteer much about her personal life. “That was taken a few years ago when she was still little more than a puppy. Now she’s all grown up.”

“She looks like she’s already almost the same size as you here,” Chakotay said with a grin. “I can’t imagine her getting much bigger.” He picked up another holo. “I assume this is you and Admiral Paris?”

Janeway came moved closer to see which one he was talking about. “Oh, no, that one is of me and my father, from a long time ago.” It was one of the last holos of Edward Janeway, taken just days before the _Terra Nova_ flight test. 

“I see. This must have been early in your career – you’ve only got two pips.”

“It was.” She indicated the holo of her and Owen from Moira’s wedding. “This one is of my husband and me, though it was taken before we got married.” 

“Very nice,” he said appreciatively. “Looks like that was some party you were at.”

“It was,” she said, keeping her voice even, but the memory of that night and what it had started was dangerously close to the surface. Any more small talk and she knew it would be difficult to keep maintaining an emotional distance from what she had lost. In a change from their usual procedure, she sat down on the sofa, instead of at her desk, and indicated the pile of reports. “Shall we get started?”

Chakotay sat down next to her. “Yes, the sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be finished.” He made a face. “I’d forgotten just how much paperwork Starfleet requires.”

“Some things never change,” she said in agreement, though personally she found that dealing with something as mundane as personnel reports was a welcome development, further proof they were finally moving out of bare survival mode and into the more normal realm of regular ship operations.

He picked up the first PADD. “Speaking of which, Lieutenant Tom Paris.” His eyes met hers. “His piloting skills got us out of a sticky situation just now. Despite fears to the contrary, he seems to be settling in pretty well.”

“He is indeed,” Janeway said, wondering just whose fears Chakotay had been referring to. “He certainly seems to be a natural at the helm. He showed real talent from a very young age.”

“I didn’t have much of an opportunity to see his piloting skills in the Maquis, but what I’ve seen on _Voyager_ has been impressive. Of course, you have an advantage in knowing him much better than I do,” Chakotay said. 

Janeway smiled ruefully. “I’ve known Tom since he was a first-year cadet,” she said. “But I won’t claim a greater familiarity with him. Until a few months ago, our paths didn’t intersect very much.” 

Chakotay looked surprised. “But you’re his stepmother.”

“Let’s just say that he gets along better with Captain Janeway than he does with his father’s wife,” Janeway said carefully, then sighed. “I knew his father for many years before we became romantically involved. But Tom was very angry and hurt when his parents’ marriage ended, and even though I had nothing to do with it, he never really accepted me.”

“So, you haven’t had the best relationship,” Chakotay said tactfully.

“More accurately, we’ve never had a relationship at all,” Janeway said, wondering why she was confiding such personal information to her ex-Maquis first officer of all people. “It’s gotten better, though. As you’ve doubtless observed, we seem to have achieved détente in the last month or so.” Mostly because she was not pushing as hard as she had at first; the memory of how Tom rebuffed her shortly after she’d named him chief flight operations officer still stung. And even though Tom was avoiding her except in an official capacity, he _did_ seem to be relaxing more and settling in. Off duty, she had observed him in the Mess Hall or on his way to or from the holodeck in the company of others, including the Delaney sisters. “On the bridge or at staff meetings, his behavior is above reproach.” 

Chakotay gave her a thoughtful look. “I’ve noticed it too. Despite his past, he’s turning out to be a real asset.” He leaned forward slightly. “Is Tom an only child?”

“No, he has two older sisters.”

“What’s your relationship with them like?” 

“We aren’t close,” Janeway admitted. 

“I gather this bothers you more now that we’re out here,” Chakotay said quietly. “In particular, you want to repair things with Tom as a way of holding on to your relationship with his father.” Startled by his shrewd guess, she looked away and didn’t answer. He picked up on her discomfort immediately. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“It’s all right,” she said, but did not meet his eyes. She picked up the next report. “Lieutenant Rollins, Security.” 

As they discussed each member of the crew in turn, in a corner of her mind, she was mulling Chakotay’s words. His comments about Tom had been spot-on, but she was annoyed at herself for opening up so much to Chakotay about her domestic issues. She was not used to confiding in her direct reports, especially not one whom she could tell was attracted to her. Their command relationship was already unconventional due to the circumstances, and the last thing she wanted was to complicate it further. Especially in light of a certain rumor which Tuvok had just recently brought to her attention.

She’d stared at her chief of security in shock. “ _What_ did you say?” 

“That you are believed to have secured Chakotay’s cooperation – and by extension, the Maquis - in exchange for sexual favors,” Tuvok repeated in his usual non-emotional delivery.

“That’s completely preposterous,” she said angrily.

“Agreed,” Tuvok said, his eyebrow raised, as if surprised she felt the need to refute it. “Nonetheless, you need to be aware of what is being said. How do you plan to proceed?”

“I don’t plan to do anything,” she said, projecting a calm exterior although inwardly she was seething. “Give it time and it will fade as there is no corroborative evidence to back it up.”

She was completely committed to Owen and their marriage, but she had to admit she found Chakotay to be quite handsome and he held a certain fascination for her. Despite his stint as a Maquis, he was working out fantastically as a first officer, and she found him very easy to be with besides. Once or twice she’d started asking him questions about his own background, his family, what had driven him to join Starfleet in the first place and what had driven him to resign. Some of this she already knew – the Cardassian devastation of Chakotay’s home planet was pretty self-evident when it came to motivations – and other things he’d hinted about, such as his medicine bag and what it represented to him. But each time, she’d almost immediately changed the subject, heeding the inner voice that sternly reminded her she needed to maintain a professional distance. 

“On to Engineering,” Janeway said now. Thinking of how well she and Torres played off each other in staff meetings, how they seemed to be aligned on engineering issues, both theoretical and practical, she said, “Lieutenant Torres is doing very well as Chief Engineer. Thank you again for that recommendation.” 

“My pleasure,” Chakotay said, his eyes twinkling. “I thought you two would get along well. I heard a while back that you have an engineering background yourself.”

“Science, actually,” she said. “I have a doctorate degree in quantum cosmology, but I do know my way around an engine room.”

“It shows. You and B’Elanna certainly seem to be on the same wavelength.” Chakotay took another sip of his coffee. “Did you know, that for a semester, I thought about going into engineering? That was before I realized I was better suited for the archaeology and xenoanthropology track. There’s something about alien cultures that fascinates me.”

“The Delta Quadrant should give you plenty of opportunities to explore that fascination,” Janeway said with a slight smile.

“I look forward to it,” Chakotay said, and he returned her smile, his dimples very much in evidence.

To distract herself, she said, “By the way, Tuvok has commented favorably on Ensign Ayala’s performance in Security. You could say the same for many of the Maquis, in fact.”

“But some of the others still have room for improvement,” Chakotay finished, clearly hearing what she had not expressed out loud. “You have to realize that serving on a Starfleet ship is challenging for them. I’ve been talking to them, and I’m sure they’ll all come around. You just have to give them more time.” 

“Well, time is certainly one thing we will have a lot of,” she said, thinking again of the micro-wormhole and the lost opportunity it represented. 

Chakotay squeezed her hand sympathetically, as if knowing what was on her mind, and she was grateful for his support. 

As they continued working, she thought once more about how lucky she was. All in all, she really couldn’t have asked for a better first officer.


End file.
